


there's a bluebird in my heart (that wants to get out)

by heavingfuckery (immortalflowers)



Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: Choi Soobin Closeted Romantic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Morning Sex, Porn with Feelings, Sexual Content, Top Choi Soobin, that's it that's the fic, they have sex and its the morning and soobin has feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:14:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25774168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immortalflowers/pseuds/heavingfuckery
Summary: It's 5 am, and if Soobin were a better man, he wouldn't start kissing a trail down Yeonjun's collarbones on a weekday.Alas, he is only in love.
Relationships: Choi Soobin/Choi Yeonjun
Comments: 14
Kudos: 190
Collections: TXT BONKFEST





	there's a bluebird in my heart (that wants to get out)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the mods for hosting this ficfest :) To my prompter, I hope this is what you had in mind and that I came at least a little bit close to your idea^^ 
> 
> And to everyone, please enjoy reading! <3
> 
> (The title is inspired by C. Bukowski's poem Bluebird, and the song at the end is Kiss' I was made for lovin' you)
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/yoongsicle)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/immortalflowers)

For years now the picture of two bluebirds bundled together on a cherry branch in full bloom has looked over their bed, bought on a whim because it reminded him of the past on one of Yeonjun’s many excursions to antique fairs. He didn’t expect Soobin to actually mount it on the wall, though. 

Now the excess red thread that’s connecting the bamboo sticks it's painted on flows freely with the morning draft being let in through the open window as Soobin admires Yeonjun’s pouty lips, cheek partially squished against the pillow. 

He looks more innocent like this, younger; as pretty as he did when they first met, with his deep-sea azure hair and kissable lips made only for ruining Soobin.

He’s always apprehensive in that he’s somehow holding Yeonjun back, but Yeonjun’s unconsciousness tells the truth and mends his heart. 

Like the way he woke up to Yeonjun gripping his hand on the pillow between them, their fingers threaded like a thorny rose bush. 

He likes to think that Yeonjun is incapable of letting go, that this is his way of showing weakness and vulnerability similar to the way usually reserved for Soobin – who likes to hide his emotions until they all come out like a dam breaking.

The last moments of night spilling like paint through the bright orange flash of first sun-rays make him open his heart to the childhood monster under the bed, unbidden, only to be locked back up come daylight hours.

Yeonjun wears his heart on his sleeve, and Soobin is in all that he has a bleeding heart, so it makes sense that the Fates have brought them together – tightening the red thread wrapped around each ankle until they clashed in the middle. 

Blindly, lovingly, horrifically forever.

Yeonjun doesn’t stir even when Soobin places his hand against his cheek, his original intention to move the hair out of his face, to see the scar settled into the skin there – a mark of their becoming.

A sign forever brandished into his skin hides the story of how they met. Beomgyu always scoffs at it, but Taehyun thinks it’s romantic, just a tad tragic for how awfully plain their lives are. How Yeonjun ran after the tall dark boy who left his book in the campus café and almost gouged his eye out passing by a construction site on a faulty pipe.

Soobin sighs, his soft exhale misplacing a few of Yeonjun’s black locks, and he scrunches his nose up adorably in his sleep.

Soobin can’t help but believe there is someone (something) out there pushing their bodies in the right direction. There are certain paths life takes you that you choose yourself, but the rest is led by the often unjust hand of Fate, beyond a person’s control. 

Soobin is glad to have been dealt one of the good cards, to have returned to that same café, that same blue-haired boy (albeit now with a huge band-aid covering half of his high cheekbone and temple, the skin around it bruised in purple, blue and yellow flower petals, scratched from the asphalt, and in his hands a copy of Bukowski’s poems with Yeonjun’s number written on a piece of paper and slipped in between the pages).

“Go to sleep,” Yeonjun croaks out, peering at Soobin from under his long tar colored lashes and untangling their fingers to rub at his eyes.

“You go to sleep.” he pushes the hair that fell into Yeonjun’s eyes away, his fingers splayed over the curve of Yeonjun’s cheek.

“I can’t sleep with you staring at me like that, Soobin. Why aren’t you sleeping?” he stretches with his hands over his head, languid like a cat.

Soobin laughs, and in the waning darkness, it sounds louder, harsher – interfering with the sanctity early morning light brings, but still laced with pure and utter adoration.

He brings Yeonjun closer to his own body under the heavy quilt and blankets, his tiny waist a near-perfect fit for Soobin’s hands to hold. He kisses Yeonjun’s cheek, and higher – his temple, and speaks lowly into his ear, his voice scratchy with disuse and heavy with sleep. “I’m thinking about college, Bluebird.”

Yeonjun snorts at the old nickname and lightly slaps Soobin’s chest. “Good old days,” he murmurs on a yawn, fully prepared to go back to sleep.

"That's one way to put it," Soobin agrees and squints at the clock on the bedside table to read the hour.

It's 5 am, and if Soobin were a better man, he wouldn't start kissing a trail down Yeonjun's collarbones on a weekday. 

Alas, he is only in love.

Yeonjun laughs incredulously when Soobin reaches his mouth and kisses it off him, a sure way to show his intentions.

"Mhm, do we even have time for this?" Yeonjun questions and is stopped in the middle of his sentence by a moan. Soobin's teeth have left their mark on Yeonjun's ear and neck, and Soobin smiles in accomplishment.

"Time for what?" Soobin plays the fool, his hands marking a path south as if they have a mind of their own.

Yeonjun doesn't stop him. In fact, the little sounds he makes only spur Soobin on, wedging the shards of affection closer to Soobin's heart. He's afraid to know what happens when they finally pierce the muscle.

"You know what," Yeonjun falters as Soobin's hand finally reaches its target. Soobin takes hold with determination like he wants to break him, make him sweat, and cry for Soobin.

And he will.

By the end of this charade, Yeonjun will call his name like he always does, like he's done hundreds of times in the same situation, and then they will release each other from the sweaty embrace, and Yeonjun will make them breakfast, and Soobin will pour him coffee, and let his tea steep for longer than necessary, just to kiss Yeonjun a few more times before their mouths become too bitter from their drug of choice.

"Spit," Soobin tells Yeonjun now, retrieving his hand from Yeonjun's sleep shorts and bringing it up to his mouth.

After Yeonjun does as he's told, Soobin brings his hand back to Yeonjun's half-hard dick, pumping it a few times and smearing Yeonjun’s own spit all over as Yeonjun looks at him, his eyes half-open. Soobin would joke about him needing glasses if he wasn’t sure that Yeonjun would push him away and continue sleeping, petty by nature. 

Sitting back on his haunches, he takes hold of Yeonjun's boxer shorts and pulls them down his legs, revealing unmarred, golden skin, sweet like honey. He falls back to kissing Yeonjun like a wave crashing onto the shore.

"Soobin," Yeonjun whispers into the skin of his neck, bringing his foot up Soobin's calf.

"Yes, Hyung?" Soobin asks, working his hand over Yeonjun.

"Take your fucking socks off," he huffs and Soobin laughs, a little embarrassed to be caught out.

"I'm serious," he says, pushing Soobin away and stilling his hand, "I'm not having sex with you while you're wearing socks. It's absurd."

"You know I get –" Soobin starts, but Yeonjun stops him by taking hold of Soobin's shirt and pulling it over his head, dislodging his hand from Yeonjun's dick in the process which makes him hiss out an annoyed breath.

"Yes, I know you get cold, but if you're gonna keep your socks on, you might as well finish in them." Yeonjun pouts with the force of a thousand cutest kittens and puppies.

He always gets his way, Soobin cannot say no to the shape of his lips nor the innocent look in his eyes, which is only a charade orchestrated to make Soobin subjugate to all his whims and wishes.

“Now kiss me,” Yeonjun says when Soobin has rid himself of all his clothes, including the socks ( _especially the socks_ ).

“Yes, your majesty,” Soobin mocks, making a path from Yeonjun’s shoulder to clavicle to jawline. He yelps when Yeonjun bites at his ear to avert Soobin’s attention from his hand shifting from leaving red marks by grabbing his thigh to pumping his dick.

“Your hand is dry,” Soobin remarks, moving away from his touch, distracting Yeonjun with little bites intended to sting, but not outright hurt.

“My baby~” Yeonjun sing-songs as he lets go and wrestles Soobin onto his back. Yeonjun presses back into him, kisses him silly, still mostly asleep. Soobin is amazed at how Yeonjun even decided to go along with his ministrations with little to no coaxing.

Their tongues move lazily, every once in awhile moving the course to brush over teeth or the roof of the mouth, Yeonjun’s dick wet with spit pushing against Soobin in something close to desperation.

“Don’t you have –” he moans when Yeonjun pushes his hips just-so into his own as he’s reaching for the lube they left under the pillow right before they fell asleep. “Don’t you have to teach ‘til late afternoon today?”

Yeonjun grunts appreciatively as Soobin takes both their dicks in his big long-fingered hand to take some of the edge off.

“Remember that one time,” Yeonjun moans and coats his fingers in lube, rubbing it between his fingertips to warm it up, “when I spent half a day during a workshop with a plug in because someone,” he looks under his eyebrows straight at Soobin to make a point, “had to work overtime.”

Soobin looks away with a pained smile – guilty as charged. 

The sun rising leaves its mark in the shape of shadows on the far wall, he can see the mirrored version of himself and Yeonjun – his hands on Yeonjun’s hips, one of Yeonjun’s placed on Soobin’s chest to keep balance, the other working himself open once again in the past 10 or so hours.

Time has lost its meaning since they’ve been together if Soobin is being honest; especially when it has to do with something so emotionally taxing and intimate as making love to Yeonjun.

Soobin stays entranced by the sight of Yeonjun’s fingers working himself open. Yeonjun raises his hips even before Soobin’s fingers move as if he knows his intentions before Soobin himself. Or they are _just so_ in tune with each other.

Yeonjun grips Soobin’s arm firmly when he reaches a hand behind him, coating a finger in lube Yeonjun sloppily spread around his hole, and pushes it alongside Yeonjun’s two that are already making scissoring motions.

“Hnng,” Yeonjun moans at the fullness and drops back onto his haunches. “Let’s go, let’s go,” he tells Soobin, and makes himself comfortable back on his side of the bed.

Soobin pinches the condom Yeonjun opened with his non-sticky hand and teeth and rolls it on, before sinking slowly all the way into Yeonjun. Soobin moans and Yeonjun clenches his teeth and closes his eyes in both pain and pleasure.

Yeonjun’s masochistic tendencies don’t escape Soobin, so on the next push, he takes more lube to spread it over his dick and Yeonjun’s hole, and goes slower.

“Ahh, it’s cold Soobin,” he complains, and Soobin shuts him up with a kiss.

“Tell me I’m pretty,” Yeonjun pouts up at him, lit up by the window with sweat collecting on his brow.

“You’re pretty,” Soobin agrees, pushing harder, his breathing getting more labored so close to reaching the end.

“Call me beautiful,” he says again.

“You already know you’re beautiful, Hyung,” Soobin says.

“I want to hear it from you though,” Yeonjun says and grabs hold of Soobin’s back, pushing his heel into Soobin’s ass to egg him on. “C’mon faster, I’m close.”

Soobin grunts, but doubles his efforts; pumps Yeonjun’s dick and whispers nonsense under his breath.

Once he feels Yeonjun start shivering and his muscles tense up, he says “Come for me, my pretty hyung. You’re beautiful, magnificent, I’ve never seen a person more charming than you are Yeonjunnie.”

Yeonjun cackles when he realizes he got what he wanted, and bites into Soobin’s bicep as he climaxes; Soobin pulls out soon after, finishes all over Yeonjun’s smooth, toned stomach.

Some of his release even ends up on Yeonjun’s neck, and he lowers himself down to lick him clean.

“Gross, Soobinnie. It tickles.”

He kisses Yeonjun with tongue, just to annoy him, and promptly falls asleep right after he lets his tired, sticky body disconnect from Yeonjun and lie back down on his side of the bed.

Soobin wakes again to the sound of Yeonjun's humming in the kitchen, mumbling the words to a melody Soobin vaguely recognizes but can't quite place the lyrics.

He gets dressed into a white button-down he finds hooked over a chair in the corner, pulls a pair of boxers over his legs, and goes out to kiss Yeonjun good morning one more time.

Soobin turns the ancient radio off, the one that Yeonjun brought home (as many other things before it) from another antique fair, despite knowing it only plays one station. The one he turns on every god damn morning even though he knows Soobin hates it.

Yeonjun looks at him then pouts and opens his arms when he sees Soobin standing in the doorway. They murmur good mornings and kiss sweetly over pancakes.

They share that between the two of them: the inherent need to bring broken things home. To fix them, and to help.

Well, sometimes things, other times people, and sometimes each other.

Always each other.


End file.
